


Friends and Lovers

by alafaye



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 09:40:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alafaye/pseuds/alafaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little slice of life in December for the boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends and Lovers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [verucasalt123](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verucasalt123/gifts).



> Written for the 2012 mult-fandom gift exchange at the LJ community multifan-gift.

John was rubbing his hair dry as he left the bathroom. "I swear, Sherlock, if you pick up just one more case involving skips or the Thames, I might just dump you in it."

"Are you saying that you don't enjoy it?" Sherlock asked smoothly.

John looked up from under the towel with a fierce frown. He stopped short, however, of giving a good retort. Sherlock had failed again to quit smoking and often times the smell of the tobacco and smoke permeated their bed at night. Quitting at...quitting the smoking, however, was more for John. Ever since their relationship had become romantic and sexual, John found himself with a whole new mess of kinks. Watching Sherlock smoke was just the latest.

John took a deep breath to clear his head before Sherlock saw any reason for them to miss the Yard's holiday party.

"I can't imagine anyone enjoying a kip in a skip or the Thames," John said with a shudder. The feeling of _something_ drifting past him in the Thames was something he, unfortunately, would never forget.

Sherlock chuckled. "I've always found skips to be a fountain of information."

John raised an eyebrow. "Is that so Mr. I-can-read-everything-about-a-person-from-one-look?"

"Was that meant to be several words?" Sherlock asked. "Or did you mean to include the dashes I audibly heard?"

John shrugged. "Take it as you wish." He tossed his towel at Sherlock. "Get changed into something that doesn't smell like garbage."

Sherlock took the last bit of cigarette and ground it out. "Whatever for?"

"The holiday party at the yard?" John asked with raised eyebrows.

Sherlock wrinkled his nose. "That."

"They're trying, Sherlock," John said. "They want to show you that they're sorry."

"Social niceties I have no use for," Sherlock muttered.

"And yet those niceties are the very thing that will save you if something like this happens again," John reminded him.

"Moriarty is dead. No one else can orchestrate something of that magnitude."

"You never know," John said. "According to the papers, geniuses are born everyday."

"Bogged down by emotions and other boring things," Sherlock retorted.

"Get dressed. We're going."

Sherlock slouched into their bedroom and sullenly changed. "I'll have you know that I am doing this under duress."

"I'm sure," John said. 

"I won't enjoy myself."

"Of course not."

"I am, actually, unsure of why I'm going."

"To discover everyone's secrets so you can hold it over them when they call you a freak?" John half smirked--Sherlock could get that information anytime, but he did enjoy having a back log of information.

Sherlock hummed thoughtfully. They finished dressing in silence and left the flat. The air was chilly and John was grateful he'd decided to get a new jacket. Sherlock nodded at one of the homeless they passed who offered up a note in exchange for a few pounds. Sherlock smirked as he read it.

"We'll have to take the train out to Manchester tomorrow," Sherlock said gleefully.

"Got something?" John asked.

"For the Clapham case, yes," Sherlock said smugly.

John chuckled at Sherlock's enthusiasm, but was glad that they finally had something for Mrs. Clapham. Not to mention, there would be no post-case lull for Sherlock to fall into. Good news all around, then.

~~~

"Lestrade is back with his wife," Sherlock muttered to John with a tone in his voice that spoke simply of disgust.

"What do you have against his wife?" John asked. He considered having another biscuit, but went instead for just another cup of the punch.

"She hit on me," Sherlock said with a wrinkle of his nose. "And when I replied simply that women do nothing for me, she offered to drug Lestrade so she could watch he and I together."

John frowned at the presented image. "Did you tell Lestrade?"

"Naturally," Sherlock said. "She denied it and said I had assaulted her. I believe that was the second time he put me in a cell. He has since come around, thankfully."

"But he stays with her," John muttered. He shook his head. "Wonders never cease."

"Some people get stuck in a rut and cannot get themselves out," Sherlock said. 

John cast his eye around the room, looking for anything to distract Sherlock from Lestrade and his reunion with his cheating wife. (John knew the story well enough to know that she probably was already cheating on him.) He elbowed Sherlock gently and nodded toward a woman propped against the far wall. "What about her? What's her story?"

Sherlock watched her for only a moment. "She was stood up. Not a police woman--she was her date. But the police woman is down the street at the bar getting spectacularly smashed. They had made plans to meet her, but the police woman never made it."

John hummed. "Anything else?"

"They've been fighting, probably because of the alcohol and also because of the job. It's what drove the police woman to drink now it’s driving them apart. A twofold problem it seems. A few money problems, a brother with a gambling problem. Poor self image--look at her dress and shoes; amplifying what little she has and adding to it. Comes from a poor background and struggles to overcome it by having a bigger, better income. Living beyond her means, however."

"Do all the police have trouble with their relationships?" John asked quietly.

"Seems so," Lestrade said as he joined them. He knocked back a cup of punch and then another.

"It's the hours," Sherlock said. "They're never set and always go beyond a set time frame. It does make having a relationship difficult as one's partner does expect reservations to be kept and promises sworn to."

"Be lucky you both have the same job," Lestrade said. He was quickly downing the third cup of punch and John frowned with worry. "Seriously. Though I expect you enjoy time away from this one, eh, John?"

John shared a look with Sherlock. Despite how little Sherlock's opinion might be of Lestrade and his relationship with his wife, Sherlock cared for Lestrade as one of his only friends. To see Lestrade drinking and more than at that, was worrying to them both.

"How about a cigarette?" Sherlock suggested.

"Can't," Lestrade slurred. "Wife don't like it."

"Then at least a breath of fresh air," John said. "Come on."

"No, she'll get mad," Lestrade said. Despite his words, however, he willingly let John pull him out into the street. "S-she thinks I spend too much time at work--it's why she sleeps around, see? She gets _lonely_."

"No," Sherlock said sternly. "She says that so she can get away with it. In reality, she is addicted to the high of lying and going behind your back. But take heart--you're not the first."

"What?" Lestrade asked. "What do you mean, 'not the first'?"

"Hm? Oh, she's been married before or didn't she tell you?" Sherlock opened his phone, feinging disinterest, but John could tell it was only a front. Clearly Sherlock had not known that Lestrade hadn't and was trying to figure out how best to salvage the conversation.

Lestrade rubbed his face. "That bitch. She told me...oh, god. I'm going to be sick."

"I don't think the news is--oh, that." Sherlock cleared his throat and stepped away as Lestrade threw up the food from the party as well as his dinner.

John sighed and waited until Lestrade was dry heaving. He hefted the man up and swung his arm over his good shoulder. "Home, I think."

"Not his," Sherlock said. "Bring him by ours. I doubt either of them wishes to see the other tonight."

John nodded and Sherlock took up Lestrade's other side. Together, the three of them made their way to Baker St.--even if it took them a good hour.

~~~

"Well, he's asleep," John said. As soon as he'd sat down, Lestrade was out. John had propped him on his side and put a bucket, some aspirin, and a glass of water nearby. Hopefully, Lestrade would sleep peacefully.

Sherlock frowned. "You--"

"Yes, on his side," John said with a smile. "He'll be fine. Besides, you're probably going to be up half the night looking over your notes for the Clapham case; you can check on him."

Sherlock nodded. "Yes. The Clapham case."

John watched as Sherlock drifted off in thought. Tomorrow they would be off to Manchester and in a week, they would be celebrating Christmas. All in all, right now, it was good. He fell asleep with a smile.


End file.
